Hurricane - Badlands, Part 1
by pointlesspostits
Summary: Tenzinaderanian lived an extraordinary life - she travelled the stars, smuggling illegal artefacts, assassinating evil and saving damsels in distress - until she was caught and sentenced to death. The last thing she ever expected to do was wake up. Now she's back with the Doctor, but evil awaits, and it might just put a stop to her fun forever... AU where another Time Lord survived
1. Prologue - The Watch Pt I

**Prologue – The Watch pt. I**

Like a patchwork quilt, Tenzina could remember her life before in parts, all separate, and all stitched together in the wrong order.

She could remember the high school, where all the kids at Pine Hill were carted off on the daily. She remembered being relatively popular, considering where she came from; the rest of the children from the home were outcasts, and she remembered working hard for it. She could remember her fifth birthday, where the staff had baked her a cake, which hadn't been great, but she had refused to share it anyway, and had eaten it all in one afternoon and had had a marvellous time doing it. She could remember the creature – whom she now recognised as a Graske – that had stalked her on her final days of humanity, and accused her of things that she could never have imagined. She could remember her friends; loud girls with bleached hair and pink nails and a lingering smell of cigarettes, and she could remember how she hated them, but they kept her out of harm's way, so she persisted. She remembered growing up alone – surrounded by other children that came and went, but something about her meant that no one wanted her, always last considered, always first brought back. She remembered the athletics club that she attended for seven years, and the scholarship she was aiming for that all seemed so trivial now. She remembered that her name had been Charlotte – Charlie to her friends – and that everything about her had been a lie.

And, of course, she remembered the Doctor. How could she forget him?

It was late winter, a bitter February, and Charlie had just celebrated her seventeenth birthday. It had been the traditional party; a few cans of lager snagged from the local off-licence with Alexis' fake ID, downed in the park behind the bushes that reeked of weed. It had been cold, and Charlie hadn't been sure whether it had been worth it, but she had been told that it was The Thing To Do, so she had gone along with it regardless. Sometimes she found human behaviour hard to understand, despite being one herself.

The week to follow had appeared normal from a distance, but upon closer inspection the cracks began to show. On the Monday, Charlie arrived at school to discover that every single one of her teachers was ill. That fact alone wasn't _that_ strange, after all, there could have been some sort of bug going around that one of the other student in Charlie's classes had passed onto them, what made it strange were the substitute teachers that had been brought in in their place. Not one knew a thing about the subject they had been asked to teach. On top of that, none of them seemed to care when the students misbehaved, unless it was Charlie. She realised that that sounded exactly like the type of thing a bitter teenager would say, but it was entirely true. They all had something strange about them too, and Charlie found that she could never look any of them in the eye, no matter how much she wanted to.

Now she knew that that was due to the low-level perception filter that each of them used to cover up the fact they weren't human at all, and that if she had ever managed it she would have seen that their eyes were all entirely red. If only Charlie had known that.

"Don't you think Miss Gregory is sketchy?" Alexis asked Charlie as they left their biology class the next day, clutching her binder close to her chest and drumming her brightly painted nails against the cardboard absently.

"I think they're all sketchy," Charlie said simply, "they don't make eye contact with anyone and, like, once I leave I can never remember what they looked like, y'know?" Her brow furrowed as she considered this, realising she had never thought it through entirely before. How did that work? Did the entire class just collectively forget what their teacher looked like? The world was strange, yes, but nothing like that ever happened in Leeds, it was always London. Or Cardiff.

"I never thought about it before but you're right," Alexis looked at Charlie as if she had made some sort of breakthrough, " _Maybe_ Miss Gregory is a criminal on the run and she can't make eye contact with us because of her intense guilt."

Charlie shot Alexis a look out of the corner of her eye as they walked between the school buildings towards the PE block, "you can tell you're going to study creative writing, you have far too much imagination" she said dryly, and then sighed, "it's probably nothing, it's just giving me a headache."

"You can tell you're into sports," Alexis threw back, her voice vicious but edged with humour, "you don't like to think very hard."

"Be careful or I'll throw a shot put at your head," Charlie quipped, adjusting the strap of her backpack over her shoulder, "anyway, I have athletics until five so I'll meet you tomorrow at the usual place at quarter to eight."

Alexis nodded, waving as she broke off from Charlie and headed towards the school gates, leaving the girl to enter the changing rooms alone.

There were very few people in the athletics club, and even less sixth formers. Charlie was the only girl left in the team from the college, and there were significantly less from the lower school than there were boys. It was mainly because of this that she had been so determined to be the first student from the school to gain a scholarship for athletics. She was one of the best at her level in the UK at shot put - her trainer was starting to push her to apply for the Olympic qualifiers, but Charlie was still unsure. She thought she could use another four years of practice at least.

She changed quickly into her gym clothes, away from the rest of the girls in her usual back corner of the locker room, then stuffed her backpack and ring binder into a locker and made her way outside onto the sports field. Charlie liked to get out early to do a few laps of the track before everyone else rocked up, just as a pre-warm up warm up, and she set off at a sprint, running until she saw the rest of the kids congregate on the AstroTurf, when she slowed down to join them.

The PE teacher was, as with all of Charlie's others, absent with no explanation, and the substitute seemed not to be very athletically inclined, seeing as he was looking at the javelins with more confusion that Charlie had ever seen anyone look at anything. She was almost one hundred percent certain that she heard the man refer to a shot put as a cannon ball at one point, but Charlie assumed that he had been joking. She really hoped he was, at least. Despite this he seemed quite intent to criticise Charlie's form at every opportunity, something that she was not used to, being not only the schools but the entire county's star sportsman. She would have stared him down, but she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye.

Two and a half hours of being needlessly criticised later, Charlie made her way out of the school gates. Despite spring being so close, the sun was setting as she made her way out through the park and down the road back to Pine Hill, her shadow stretching out in front of her, all broad shoulders and thick hair. The park was nothing spectacular; just a playing field with a painted football pitch, the bushes where Charlie and her friends went to smoke and drink, and a small play park for kids that was vandalised more often than it wasn't. Tonight, the swings had been tied together, the chains wrapped up in a bizarre knot that would probably take the council several days to unwrap. Charlie smirked, no one had done that for a while.

The wind wheezed, a cool breeze rustling the bushes next to the path, causing the knotted swings to squeak and swing. It sounded strange - like some sort of leaf blower on steroids. Maybe there was a storm coming.

Pine Hill Children's Home was only a fifteen-minute walk from Charlie's school, and it stood proudly in the centre of a street of terraces, the one detached house for several blocks. Pine Hill used to be some sort of manor house, or mansion, or something- the staff had once told Charlie it was where the factory owner's family lived, amongst the terraces of workers. The factory had long since been demolished and replaced with the old working men's club across the road, but the architecture in the area still screamed "Industrial revolution". Charlie had been in the home the longest, and therefore had ended up with the largest bedroom, on the right side of the top floor. It hadn't been repainted for ten years, since the last kid had been adopted and moved out, so it still had dark blue walls and a mural of planets and stars. Charlie wasn't mad at that, it was childish and cartoon-like, but she loved sci-fi, so she could make it work for her.

She collapsed down on her bed after making her way up the stairs to the top floor, when she had stuck her head into the kitchen to say hi to Paul, the chef, who she had a soft spot for seeing as he was the only care worker who had stuck around for the entire fourteen years she had been at Pine Hill. He had given her a warm smile, and had told her that she had half an hour until dinner was ready. She stared down at her bedside table for a while, studying the contents as if it was the first time she had seen them - a lamp, navy blue, like the walls; her alarm clock, always ten minutes early to give her a sense of urgency; her mobile phone, one of those flip up ones; and her old fob watch.

She was never sure why she kept it by her bedside - it was probably because it was the only thing that belonged to her family that she owned, but then she had no memory of them, so she wasn't entirely sure why she had kept it. There was just something about it that stopped her from throwing it out each time she got close. The watch had some form of engraving in a language that she couldn't speak, and it had been stuck ever since she had been given it by a foster worker once they decided that she was old enough. She didn't remember the last time she had tried to open it.

Charlie swung her legs forwards and back a few times over the edge of her bed, before leaning over and checking her phone for texts - she had two from Alexis and one from Kelly, both asking if she could hang out that evening. Charlie could have easily sneaked out, but she was exhausted after training, so declined, before throwing her phone back down and heading to the bathroom to take a shower.

Currently, there were only seven children at Pine Hill, including Charlie. Eva was four, just a little older than Charlie had been when she had been left on the doorstep, and Charlie suspected that Eva would be snapped up soon by a foster family. The little kids always stuck around the shortest amounts of time, apart from Charlie, of course. Ben was the next youngest, seven years old with bright red hair and an obsession with dinosaurs - he had been at the home for about a year after his parents were killed in a hit and run. Charlie still heard him crying sometimes in the middle of the night - most of the orphans had nightmares, she had noticed. Polly and James were twins, both ten years old and always fighting - their older brother, Samuel, was thirteen and had given up trying to shut them up. The other two girls, Sarah and Holly, were eleven, and were almost as close as sisters, despite being unrelated. Charlie, being seventeen, was the oldest by far, and had been given the opportunity to move out the year before, but had insisted on staying for as long as possible if only just to finish her studies before moving to university.

"How was athletics?" Paul asked as Charlie sat down at the dining table, wearing oversized pyjamas, her dark hair still wet. She nodded to him as she reached into the centre of the table, spooning chili onto her plate before reaching for the rice,

"It was good, yeah, though the coach was ill so we were stuck with a substitute." She pulled a face to illustrate her disapproval, and Paul returned it,

"Did they not let you know why they weren't there?"

Charlie shook her head, pouring herself a glass of water from a jug and taking a sip, "no, none of my teachers have."

Paul shot her a look, swallowing the mouthful of chili he had been chewing before prompting her to continue, "what do you mean, 'none of them'?"

Charlie realised then that she hadn't mentioned that all her teachers had been absent since the beginning of the week, and so recounted this, though she decided to leave out the parts about the weird substitutes. She wasn't sure what part of her was telling her the staff shouldn't know about them, but she trusted whatever part of her it was, and so stayed quiet.

"Must be a bug going 'round," Paul shrugged, "Polly caught something last week and had to have a few days off, didn't you, Pol?" He looked down the table towards the little girl, who nodded enthusiastically, her cheeks bulging with food. Clearly she wasn't feeling ill anymore. Charlie hmmed in response, acknowledging Paul's explanation but still not quite believing him.

She was only half way through her dinner when the doorbell rang.

"Charlie, could you watch them while I go see to that?" Paul asked, indicating to the younger kids. Charlie nodded, she had accepted her role as a substitute care worker a few months ago, when she realised that she was now often left to babysit when the adults needed to have meetings or pop to the corner shop. Paul gave her a thumbs up, before disappearing out of the room. A year or so ago, chaos would have ensued immediately, but now the children just continued with their dinner, knowing Charlie would yell at them if they stepped a toe out of line. She could be quite scary when she wanted to be. Maybe she could make a good teacher if the Olympics dream never happened.

Paul returned just over a minute later, with a rather odd looking man in tow. The visitor was skinny, looked to be in his late twenties, and was dressed like an idiot. He was wearing a bow tie. In 2009. Charlie found herself staring at him in awe. He looked completely barmy, as he stood there and grinned back down at the children. No, not at all of them… just at her.

"Hello," the man addressed the room, clasping his hands in front of his body and beaming, his voice warm and friendly, "I'm the Doctor." He glanced at Charlie as he finished his sentence, as if he expected her to react, but she only frowned. What kind of person just called himself 'the Doctor'?

Paul indicated to the man with a wave of his hand, "The Doctor is here to run an inspection for the council, nothing to worry about," He said, before sitting back down at the head of the table.

"Yes," the Doctor said, as if he had completely forgotten why he was there in the first place and Paul had just jogged his memory, "I'm here to make sure this children's home is adequately…. child friendly," He frowned slightly, before pointing down the table to Polly, "tell me, is this one," He moved his hand so he was pointing at Charlie, but still addressed the ten-year-old, "a friendly child?"

Polly blinked at him, but found herself nodding, seemingly too shocked to agree verbally. The Doctor frowned again,

"Maybe she gave me the wrong coordinates." He chuckled to himself, talking under his breath, glancing at Charlie as if she was supposed to find this funny too. She didn't. The Doctor clapped his hands together, "Anyway! Inspecting, yes, well," he looked around the dining room quickly, not moving from his spot, "well, this certainly looks good - are the chairs comfy?" He asked Ben, who nodded, chili smeared all around his mouth, "good," the Doctor gave him a thumbs up, "Can't go approving homes that have chairs that make your bottom numb now, can I?"

He looked around the room expectantly, as if this was some sort of serious question as opposed to just a stupid joke. Then again, Charlie didn't know, maybe the council did have laws about the comfiness of chairs in children's homes. If they did they really ought to get rid of the one in the living room with the dog cushions.

"Anyway," The Doctor continued, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet, "I could do with a tour of this place." He addressed Paul, "Don't worry I won't tear you away from your duties," The Doctor looked back to Charlie, who quirked an eyebrow at him, "You seem like you've been here the longest."

"I'll try not to take that as an insult," She muttered, before rolling her eyes and sighing, "Fine, I'll show you around." She pushed her chair back and stood, picking up her empty plate and glass before heading towards the kitchen, indicating with a head movement for the Doctor to follow her.

"So this is the kitchen… obviously," She said with little enthusiasm, not turning to face him as she spoke, more concerned with putting her dishes in the dishwasher so as not to get yelled at later, "You can check it out for mould or bugs or whatever it is you guys are looking for."

The inspector didn't seem to be doing much inspecting, he simply glanced at the countertops a few times, before continuing to grin at Charlie, which was more than a little unsettling. She gave him a small false smile back in the hopes to get him to stop, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

"Yes, this all seems to be in order," The Doctor nodded, prodding one of the magnets on the fridge with a finger curiously. The postcard it had been holding up fell on the ground, but the man seemed unconcerned, "So, how long have you been here?" He asked, leaning a hip against the kitchen island and folding his arms, looking at Charlie curiously as she scraped the food scraps off her plate into the bin.

"Fourteen years, give or take," She said, glad to have some form of conversation – she did always like to talk about herself, "I've been in and out a few times, not in the last few years though. No one wants a teenager, not when there are cute kids like Eva and Ben around." She shrugged, slotting the plate into the rack in the dishwasher, "I'm not too bothered though, I like it here."

The Doctor tilted his head slightly, regarding Charlie with a strange manner, "Why did they always bring you back?"

At any other time, Charlie might have considered this to be an offensive question, but something about the inspector's tone told her that he might know more than he let on, and she finally let herself meet his eyes as she shut the dishwasher and turned to lean against it, crossing her arms and mirroring his stance. He looked familiar, now she saw him properly, though she couldn't imagine where she had ever seen anyone who looked like that before.

"I have no idea," She shrugged her shoulders, "they just did. They all said something about me seemed off, and they felt like I was better off here," She stood up straight, dropping her arms back down to her sides and setting off out of the room again, "I try not to get too upset about it – should we go to the living room next?"

"You're the boss," The Doctor clicked his fingers and pointed to her with both hands as she passed him on her way out. He did honest-to-god finger guns. Charlie rolled her eyes. As they walked down the hall, the inspector carried on with their kitchen conversation, his voice slightly softer than before,

"I'm sorry," He said, and Charlie shot him a look,

"I'm honestly not bothered," She shook her head as she opened the door to the living room, stepping to the side to allow him to enter first, "so yeah, this is the living room. Please make them get rid of the god-awful dog chair, that deserves to fail any inspection."

The Doctor nodded knowingly, and glanced around the room, "Yep, this place looks good – check, big tick for the living room."

"You're literally… stood in the doorway."

"I work for Leeds City Council; did you expect me to be thorough?" The Doctor asked, pushing past Charlie to leave the room, heading towards the staircase at the end of the hall. Charlie realised she couldn't argue with that point, and trailed after him as he conducted similar 'inspections' of the kids' bedrooms, glancing through the doorframes and nodding. Sometimes he didn't even bother opening the doors. After a few minutes, they had reached the last room – top floor, on the right.

"This one's mine," Charlie said, twisting the handle and pushing the door open, making her way inside and standing a few paces away from the doorframe, so that the Doctor would have adequate space to complete his non-inspection to the usual standard. He poked his head around, and seemed to spot something, because he grinned and stepped inside, linking his hands behind his back and squinting at the wall,

"A mural!" He exclaimed, shooting a smile back at Charlie before going back to inspecting the paintwork. Charlie shrugged and took a step towards him, swinging her arms by her sides, feeling slightly embarrassed,

"Yeah, that was the kid who had this room before me – I never got around to painting over it."

"And why would you want to?" The Doctor asked, a note of glee in his voice as he turned back to Charlie, "Murals are cool, especially space ones."

Charlie frowned, "Yeah, I guess. So, uh, is everything satisfactory? You've seen the whole house now."

The Doctor frowned, then turned quickly towards the corner of the room where Charlie's bed was, and pointed overdramatically at the table, "What's that?" He demanded. Charlie followed his gaze,

"It's a pocket watch, why?"

"It's suspicious. I need to… Inspect it." He moved over to the table and picked it up, turning it over several times and proceeding to shake it violently by his ear. Charlie watched him, completely puzzled by this display, just wanting him to finish his inspection and leave,

"What are you doing?" She asked, moving closer to the man and snatching the watch from his grasp, gripping it tightly in her fist. It always felt weird when other people touched it, "I thought you were just here to inspect the building, why are you looking at my stuff?"

The Doctor looked at Charlie for a second, "Uhh," He glanced around the room awkwardly, wringing his hands, "That's a good point. Don't you think it's suspicious, though?"

Charlie frowned at the inspector for a few moments, before dropping her gaze to the watch in her fist. She had been gripping it so tightly her knuckles had gone white. She was getting a headache.

"No," She lied, snapping, "Are you done now? I have homework."

The Doctor blinked at her, and muttered something to himself under his breath that sounded to Charlie a lot like "This is going to be harder than I thought." She narrowed her eyes at him, and he seemed to get the message, "Right, yes," He said brightly, "All done – tick, tick, tick. I'll see what I can do about the dog chair."

The Doctor slapped her on the arm, smiling, "It was good to meet you, Charlie," He said brightly. Charlie frowned; she didn't remember ever telling him her name.

"Likewise," She lied, "See you around."

He nodded to her, and waved as he walked out of the room, leaving her stood alone in the centre, clutching the watch in her fist just as tightly as she had been when he had been there. She glanced down at it again. Her headache was getting stronger.

She threw the watch back down on her bedside table and sat down on her mattress, trying to process what on earth had just happened. The council really must have been facing budget cuts if those are the types of people they were hiring. Charlie shook her head, glancing down at the glowing red numbers of her alarm clock. She ought to get her homework done – who knew when her real teachers would be back to collect it?

Charlie was awoken at five thirty by the angry screeching of her alarm clock, which she glared at,

"Shut up," she muttered to the device, as she reached over to shut off the beeping, hoping, as she did every morning, that it hadn't woken anyone else in the building up. She rubbed her bleary eyes and sat up, still holding the duvet around her body for warmth, and frowned. She had been having the most bizarre dream – something about intergalactic wars and her troops all dying. She often had dreams where she was the general of an army of troops, but this one had been darker. More vivid. And it had ended with her running away.

That didn't usually happen.

She shook her head and threw the duvet from herself, standing and hunting around on the floor for her gym clothes, which she had dumped unceremoniously in the corner of the room the night before. She changed quickly, before heading out of her room and down the stairs, stopping before she left the home to fill up a water bottle, and out into the street. She stretched her legs a few times before heading off on a jog – every morning she did a full circuit to school and back, before showering, getting dressed and returning to school a few hours later. Part of her wished that there were more places to go in the tiny suburb she was trapped in, she felt far too enclosed.

She reached the park and slowed down slightly, taking this leg at a more leisurely pace. She passed the kids' play park, where the swings were still knotted, and the line of bushes, which seemed to be housing far more empty WKD bottles than it had been doing the night before. She didn't take a second glance at them – she didn't take a second glance at anything – until she saw something new.

It was entirely possible the blue phone box had always been in the park and Charlie just hadn't noticed it, but something about it felt _wrong_. Just looking at it made her nauseous, as if it didn't belong in this universe – almost as if she wasn't _allowed_ to look at it. She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at it, completely mesmerised for seemingly no reason at all. No, this had never been here before – definitely not.

Something inside of her told her that she shouldn't stare; it told her that if she did not want to face any consequences she was to carry on with her day, and never think about it again. She decided that now was, as usual, the time to listen to that little anonymous part of her consciousness, so she screwed her eyes shut and shook her head, before carrying on at a jog once more.

It took a few moments of jogging for Charlie to realise why the box had made her stop and stare – she had recognised it. Not just as a nineteen sixties police telephone box, but as something else. She had seen it somewhere before – though she couldn't picture where – and she knew that it was dangerous.

There was rusting in the line of bushes that she ran alongside, pretty unusual for this time on a morning, and she glanced down as she ran. She saw a streak of orange amongst the dark green. _Probably just a fox_ , she thought, carrying on up the path to the school, before turning right to make her way out of the park. She only looked back at the police box twice on her way out.

She arrived back at Pine Hill twenty minutes after she had left, and was, as usual, still the only one awake, besides the staff. Chris was the night support worker, and had been for the past 2 years. He greeted Charlie as she crossed him on the stairs,

"Good run?" He asked, smiling much too brightly for someone who had been at work since 10pm. Charlie nodded to him, not wanting to let on that it was actually pretty weird, considering, and returned the smile – it was far too early to engage in conversation.

She showered and changed into her clothes for sixth form – they were meant to wear business dress, so Charlie was obliged to wear a suit every day, not that that was necessarily a bad thing; blazers suited her. The other kids had started to get up and fight over who got to use the bathroom first by the time that Charlie made her way down for breakfast. In all her years of living in the children's home, she had learnt that the earlier you woke up, the better.

Charlie met Alexis at the park entrance an hour later, and the two of them made their way up to the school, Alexis recounting the messy events of the night before to Charlie, who couldn't have been less interested if she tried. She had only been half listening, until they turned a corner and Alexis stopped hallway through her sentence, pausing for a second before asking,

"Where did that come from?"

Charlie looked up and followed Alexis' gaze until her eyes settled on the police box once again. She shuddered. Just looking at it felt wrong.

"I don't know, but I don't like it." She said shortly, "Come on, we're gonna be late."

"We've got plenty of time!" Alexis said brightly, "Why don't you like it? It's cool – kind of vintage. Do you reckon it works?" She set off at a jog towards the box and Charlie sighed before following behind at a much slower pace. Alexis threw Charlie a grin before opening the hatch in the door and picking up the phone that was attached inside and holding it up to her ear.

"No dial tone," She frowned, "Must just be an art piece or something,"

Charlie felt uneasy, "Come on, Lex, I really don't think you should touch that thing." She glanced back up the path towards the school, just to check that no one was looking at them. The feeling of nausea was back.

"So you have no problem breaking the law on a regular basis, but touching a big wooden box is too scary for you?" Alexis laughed, putting the phone back and closing the hatch, "Fine, I'll leave it."

"Okay cool, let's go." Charlie sighed in relief, feeling some of the unexplainable tension that had built up in her chest dissipate.

"I didn't finish!" Alexis said, laughing, "I'll leave it, if you knock on the door." Her eyes glinted wickedly. Charlie cursed herself for having such terrible taste in friends.

"No."

"Then I will." Alexis turned back towards the box, her bleached blonde hair swishing over her shoulder, and extended an arm up to knock against the wood.

 _Knock, knock, knock._

Charlie's heart was pumping so fast it was almost as if she'd been doing laps of the playing field again. The next few seconds were terrifying. She knew that, logically, no one could really be inside the box – it was far too small for anyone to just hang out in, but something – that tiny anonymous bit of her brain that always had the good ideas – was screaming at her to run away.

"See? No answer," Alexis said, pulling a face at Charlie and shaking her head, "You're being so weird this morning," She added. Charlie shrugged,

"Come on, we need to go to biology."

After the police box incident, the rest of the day, thankfully, continued as normally as possible. All of Charlie's teachers were still absent, and the substitutes were as shady as ever, but nothing new and unnecessarily weird happened until later in the day, during Charlie and Kelly's free period after PE theory.

The two girls were sat in the cafeteria, Kelly downing a coffee and scrolling down Twitter on her laptop, and Charlie finishing last minute sociology notes before their lesson at the end of the day. They were the only students that weren't in the library which meant that, ironically, the cafeteria was far more quiet, which was how Charlie liked it.

"Ah, Charlotte!"

Ms Walters, the head of the sixth form college, approached the two girls at the table, her kind, dark eyes trained on Charlie. She appeared to have someone trailing behind her, though the woman was far too tall for Charlie to be able to make out who it was.

"Yes, miss?" Charlie asked, looking up from her notes, noticing Kelly switch tabs on her internet browser to a sociology paper out of the corner of her eye. The teacher didn't seem to be paying Kelly any attention, and instead was addressing Charlie, as if the other girl wasn't even there.

"You're on free period until half past one?" She asked. Charlie nodded, and the teacher continued, "We have an inspector here from the council, could you give him a tour for me?"

Charlie frowned. An inspection at Pine Hill and now an inspection at school within the same twenty-four hours? It wasn't completely unheard of, but she was suspicious all the same. And why was it always her who had to show the inspectors around? Didn't the adults realise she had exams to study for?

"Yeah, sure," She said reluctantly, not wanting to get on the head teacher's bad side – she was the one who was in control of her scholarship currently, after all. Ms Walters smiled at her,

"Excellent – Doctor Smith?" She turned around to face the man who was behind her; the tall, skinny man in a tweed jacket and a bow tie; and addressed him, "Charlotte here will show you around the sixth form buildings, I trust you'll find it up to standard."

"Yes, excellent, I'm sure I will." The Doctor was beaming again, but Charlie was not.

This was weird. The same inspector for both buildings, always requesting her to tour him around. She frowned at him. Maybe he was connected to the teachers going missing. Charlie didn't want to say anything, not in front of the head anyway, so she stacked all of her work up and slid it back into her backpack, then stood and slung the bag over her shoulder.

"Okay, cool," She watched the Doctor carefully out of the corner of her eye, but all he was doing was wringing his hands in front of him, still beaming at Charlie, "If you wanna follow me I'll show you the business classrooms out the back."

The Doctor obliged, trailing after Charlie as she made her way through the rows of cafeteria tables towards the back door of the building, where there was a short path between the main building and the business block. As soon as the door was closed, and the two of them were out of sight of any windows, Charlie turned swiftly, grabbing the man by the lapels of his tweed blazer and slamming him into the wall,

"Who _are_ you?" She demanded, meeting him eye to eye, "And _where_ are my teachers?"

The Doctor chuckled, but held up his hands in defence as he did so, as if this was familiar to him, but he was still unsure as to whether Charlie would actually hurt him. His laughter only succeeded in making Charlie more angry,

"If this is some sort of weird… _plot_ to –"

"To do what?" The Doctor interrupted, quirking an eyebrow.

Charlie faltered for a moment, her grip on the Doctor's jacket loosening a little, before she reapplied the force, pushing him back against the wall harder this time, so he made a little 'oof' noise.

"I don't know! Why would _I_ know? It's _your_ plot!"

The Doctor was still grinning, it was infuriating, "I can assure you, I'm not plotting anything," He chuckled again, "I'm just an inspector."

Charlie narrowed her eyes, "of schools _and_ children's homes?"

The Doctor shrugged, "Child services."

Charlie dropped him instantly. She was being stupid. Of course the same department would inspect both the schools and the children's homes – it shouldn't even have been weird that it was the same guy. She shook her head and stepped away from the Doctor, apologising,

"Shit, I'm sorry, this has just been a really weird day, though that isn't an excuse to physically assault you, I guess." Charlie screwed her eyes shut, "Please don't tell me you're going to put this on the report,"

The Doctor laughed again, though this time it came as more of a relief to Charlie than an annoyance, "Nah, don't worry about that." He brushed down his lapels and straightened his bow tie, "So, to the tour?"

Charlie eyed him suspiciously, "You're surprisingly okay with the fact that I just attacked you."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, "I'm used to it."

Charlie frowned – what kind of schools was he inspecting if he was used to the kids assaulting him? She shook her head again, attempting to clear it of the fuzziness that had been settled down upon it all day, before heading off again towards the business building.

The Doctor's inspection of the college was very much like the inspection of the home the night before. He barely looked in any of the classrooms, maybe poking his head around the doorframe if he felt like it, but otherwise deciding based on the door whether the room was a pass or not. He didn't even seem to be writing anything down. Charlie didn't want to ask; she was still too embarrassed by her overreaction in the alleyway.

"So, what's happened with your teachers?" The Doctor asked as they made their way through the shelves of the library, "You asked me where your teachers were."

Charlie inwardly cringed at the fat the Doctor had brought up her outburst, but the tiny part of her brain was speaking up again, and it seemed to think that if she should tell any adult about all these strange goings on, this was the one to tell. She didn't look him in the eye as she recounted the facts, but instead trailed her eyes along the spines of the books, feeling decidedly uncomfortable,

"All of my teachers have been missing since Monday," She said, "No one's told us where they've gone. It's just the ones who teach me – my friends in other classes still say theirs are there. But they've given us really weird substitutes."

"Weird how?" The Doctor sounded far more interested in this conversation than he had in any they had been having about the school, but Charlie chose to ignore that – something told her that he could help.

"Well, that's the thing," She said, pausing for a moment to let another student pass the two of them, "No one can remember. As soon as you leave the classroom you can't remember anything about them – nothing except that they never look you in the eye." She stopped, reaching the end of the bookshelf, and turned to face the Doctor, who was regarding her oddly.

"And what do you reckon is going on?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Charlie was slightly taken aback by the question, but found herself answering almost immediately, the words tumbling out of her mouth without her even knowing what they meant,

"Clearly it's some sort of low-level perception filter – probably masking the fact that they're not native to Earth," Charlie stopped herself with a hand over her mouth, and stood there, in silence, staring at the Doctor for a moment, before dropping her hand, "Sorry, I don't know what I just said, ignore that, I – sorry."

She turned away, because the Doctor's staring was freaking her out. What she had just said was freaking her out. Those hadn't been _her_ words. Her headache was back.

"Charlie," The Doctor said tentatively. She shook her head,

"Can we just," She held up a hand, pausing, shaking her head again, "Get back to the tour. Please." She said firmly, her head burning. She didn't want to look at the Doctor, he was starting to make her headache worse. This last day had been weird – ever since _he_ had turned up. She was still suspicious. She was sure he didn't work for the council.

"The tour, yes, of course." The Doctor said, his voice soft. Charlie didn't look at him. The sooner this tour was over, the better.

Paul wasn't in when Charlie got back from the gym after college, even though he was always in for dinner on a Wednesday evening. She tried not to think too much about it as she showered and pulled on her pyjamas, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, wiping away the condensation with a hand. She looked just the same as usual, but something about her appearance seemed weird to her. Had her face always looked like that? All dark hair and thick eyebrows and a nose that was almost hooked in its shape?

She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles, screwing them shut and groaning. What was wrong with her?

She heard whoever had replaced Paul for the day call up to the kids for dinner, and sighed, gathering up her towels and gym clothes and taking them back to her room, dumping them in her laundry basket before making her way down to the dining room. The younger kids were already complaining, and it didn't take Charlie long to realise why.

The replacement chef couldn't cook. At all. The pasta sauce they had made was awful, and made Charlie gag. She had grinned and bared it, knowing better after fourteen years than complaining when the staff made you something you didn't like. It was only after she went back up to her room to finish her biology homework that she realised she couldn't remember a thing about what the new chef looked like. Just like the substitute teachers.

Something was going on here, and Charlie could swear that Doctor knew something about it.

He had appeared the night before, and had turned up twice in the past twenty-four hours, both times asking for her specifically. The weird replacements seemed to be following her – taking positions that would get whoever they were closer and closer to her. Paul was possibly the closest thing she had to family. That meant that whatever was going to happen would be happening soon.

But what did they want from her?

 _The Doctor knows_ , she thought, though she wasn't sure why. The tiny part of her mind that was always right was telling her to find him, though she wasn't sure how. He had only appeared in the last day… just like the police box.

Realisation dawned upon Charlie, and she jumped up out of her desk chair and dashed to the wardrobe, pulling on whatever clothes she found first, then grabbed her phone and stuffed it in the pocket of her jeans. She slipped on her trainers and grabbed her coat from the back of the door, and made her way over to the window. This wasn't the first time she had sneaked out – there was a tree outside of her room that was the perfect height and strength to carry her.

She tried not to think too much about how much of a cliché it was as she pulled open the window, feeling the cold February breeze catch on her arms. Charlie threw her coat out of the window and hopped up on the windowsill, praying that she wouldn't topple over and fall three floors to the ground below, but somehow, some sort of instinct took over and she found herself leaping into the tree without an issue, taking a hold of the branches and climbing down effortlessly. She wasn't sure when or where she had learnt to climb trees, but she was certainly grateful for the skill.

She scooped up her coat and pulled it on, before hurrying away from the building and into the street, hugging her arms around her middle as she walked just fast enough to not look suspicious, the wind freezing as it blew through her still-wet hair. She reached the park entrance a few minutes later, following the same route she took several times a day, everything slightly more sinister in the darkness of the evening. She stopped dead in front of the gates, looking up at the iron lettering blankly, as if she had only just realised where she was.

What was she doing? Looking for a school inspector in a police phone box in a park? What on earth had she been thinking?

Her head was pounding, and she shook it vigorously, trying to think straight, but she couldn't. Her mind was swimming – this was all so overwhelming, and it was all because of him. Who _was_ he, and why did he seem so familiar?

It hurt to think about it. Charlie closed her eyes and frowned, knowing now that the only logical thing to do would be to turn around and _go home_ – so then why was she still telling herself to keep going?

She ignored the voice in her head for once, turning on the spot and heading back to Pine Hill, not bothering to sneak back in the way she had gone out, walking in through the front door as if everyone knew that she had been out. Paul's replacement said nothing, just watched her as she walked past him towards the stairs, never making eye contact.


	2. Prologue - The Watch Pt II

**Prologue – The Watch Pt. II**

On Thursday, Charlie couldn't shake the feeling, all day, that she was being watched.

This feeling continued with her until Friday, when she and Alexis were walking through the park on their way back to school after their morning free period, which they had spent down the road, outside the corner shop. They passed the police box again, which seemed just as empty as it had been for the last day or so, and Charlie found herself drawn to stare at it once more. She felt embarrassed every time she looked at it, the memory of the night when she had seriously considered the Doctor living in there flooding back with full force. She hadn't told anyone about it - why would she? If she was having some sort of breakdown, which she seemed to be, she would rather it be private.

As they passed the line of bushes leading to the school entrance, Charlie heard rusting in the leaves and turned to look at it by instinct. An orange blur amongst the green. She frowned.

"Did you see that?" She asked Alexis, nudging her with an elbow as they paused on the pathway, a few students passing them where they stood.

Alexis followed her gaze, squinting into the hedges for a few moments before shrugging, "See what?" She asked, eyes locking with Charlie's as she questioned. Charlie shrugged,

"Nothing," She shook her head; maybe she was imagining things. They walked through the gates and split up, Alexis heading for the English building, while Charlie headed for the changing rooms for PE. "I'll see you later."

They had gotten back to the school early, so not have to try to navigate the campus at lesson change-over time, when the entire place would be overcrowded with the lower school students, and so Charlie found herself completely alone as she made her way to the sports building at the back of the school. She could hear nothing but the distant yelling of a class inside the maths building as she passed it, and the sound of her own shoes clicking on the concrete. Which was strange, because then didn't usually make that much noise.

Unless they weren't hers.

She kept walking, not wanting to check immediately, knowing that if she stopped whoever was following her would be alerted to the fact that she knew they were there. Of course, it could just have been a teacher, or another student, simply using the same route as her across campus, but somehow Charlie felt that it was unlikely. There had been far too much weird shit going on this week for it to be anything normal. The only way to find out was to turn around.

She stopped, and the footsteps continued for a fraction of a second, just one step further than she had taken. _So_ , she thought, _definitely not alone then_. Something told her that whoever was following her wasn't just on their way to class.

Charlie turned, slowly and carefully, dreading her decision as soon as she made it, knowing that she wouldn't want to see what was there. She was right. About ten paces behind her was a creature –short and stout, probably up to Charlie's knees. It was bright orange, and its head was curved out down its back, breaking up into three prongs that wobbled as it walked. And it was walking. Towards Charlie. Holding what looked like a gun.

"What the fuck?" She whispered, taking a step backwards away from the creature, shaking her head, hardly believing her eyes. She bumped into something solid and spun around on the spot, making sure that there wasn't another of the creatures there – surrounding her, hunting her like prey – but didn't have time to register who or what was behind her.

"Run." The Doctor grabbed Charlie's hand and dragged her away from the creature, not giving her a second to recognise him, pulling her with him at a run, heading towards the sports block.

She pulled her hand away from his but continued to sprint alongside him, completely confused but grateful that there seemed to be someone around who had some idea of what was going on. Charlie glanced behind them to see that the creature was running after them, though it's short legs meant that they were gaining a significant lead. Charlie was following the Doctor, allowing him to lead her back behind the sports building and onto the playing field behind which was, thankfully, empty. There were two containers filled with sports equipment by the gates, and the Doctor grabbed Charlie's wrist once more, dragging her into the gap between the two, before peeking his head around the edge, checking if the creature was still following.

"Okay," Charlie said, trying to straighten her thoughts, but they were all screaming at her at once, "Okay, what's going on? What – what the fuck is that thing?" She pointed abstractly in the direction that they had come from, breathing heavily, mostly from the shock. She didn't even want to begin trying to ask what the Doctor was doing in her life for the third time, he'd probably tell her that he was an alien inspector next. She wouldn't be surprised.

"Oi!" The Doctor turned to her, sternly, " _language_." He tutted, returning to his spot, keeping watch around the edge of the container. Charlie took hold of the man by his coat and dragged him around to face her. They were the same height, so it was easy to stare him down. He gulped, then began to explain, "That's a Graske – probably working freelance, though I suspect it's been hired by the Shadow Proclamation. Do you know anywhere we could go that's less… school-y?"

All these words… They made so little sense yet they all seemed so familiar. The Doctor was looking at her expectantly, but Charlie couldn't find an answer for him.

"The – Shadow Proclamation?" She repeated, frowning. That, more than the rest, seemed familiar to her.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, turning to look around the corner once more, "Of course that's what you're most concerned with," He muttered, before raising his voice once more, "Yes, the Shadow Proclamation – I don't know how they found you here, but I'm guessing my presence has accelerated their activity."

Charlie shook her head, "This isn't real, is it? I'm having a breakdown, aren't I?" She asked, entirely seriously. The Doctor looked at her, bewildered.

"I certainly hope you aren't, we have things to do."

"Right." Charlie nodded, still not quite sure if she wasn't hallucinating the entire situation, because telling her she wasn't imagining things was exactly the type of thing an imaginary person would say. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down slightly, "Less school-y, you said?"

The Doctor looked back around at her, grinning. He nodded, "Yeah, anywhere like that?"

"We can't go back home," Charlie said, "Not until half two, otherwise they'll just bring me back to school. We could go to the park – me and my friends have a, uh, den of sorts." Saying it out loud was embarrassing, but the Doctor was smiling at her.

"Perfect! We just need to get there without the Graske or any of your teachers seeing us," He finished quickly. Charlie frowned at him,

"So the teachers are in league with the Graske thing?"

The Doctor's brow furrowed, "Well, who else would they be with?"

"I kind of assumed they were something to do with you," Charlie admitted. The Doctor looked offended, and Charlie held up a hand, "Admittedly, you are very suspicious."

"Suspicious how?" The Doctor said, offended. Charlie wasn't entirely sure this was the best time to be having this conversation, and rolled her eyes.

"You turned up at my house _and_ my school within the same twenty-four hours, asking to spend time with me _alone_ each time, and have seemingly stalked me – admittedly, saving me from being shot by some tiny orange man – and dragged me behind a shipping container, where we are currently stood in very close proximity," Charlie raised an eyebrow, "Do you need me to continue? Because I have more evidence."

The Doctor blinked at her, but then nodded, seemingly agreeing that maybe he had been a bit of a weirdo over the past few days, and took a few steps back from her. "That won't be necessary, thanks," he said, answering her question, "though I don't doubt you have plenty of material."

The Doctor beckoned Charlie with a hand, and they moved around the corner until they were around the back of the containers. The Doctor was looking out across the field, towards the gates, through which the Graske was now running – it looked around wildly, shaking its oddly shaped head in a way that made the prongs wobble comically, and seemed to decide that the most likely place that the Doctor and Charlie had gone was across to the other end of the field, which worked for them. As it turned to run across the field, the Doctor ran out behind it, motioning for Charlie to follow, and she watched the creature carefully as they left the field.

The two of them walked as swiftly as they would allow themselves towards the school gates, moving through the hordes of school children who had now left lessons and were moving between the blocks, giving them the perfect cover to slip out. Once they reached the park they broke out into a run again, down the path and towards the line of bushes behind which Charlie and her friends often met to do an assortment of illegal activities. It probably wasn't the best place to bring an inspector, but Charlie had the feeling he wasn't exactly who he said he was anyway.

"Not much of a den, is it?" The Doctor asked, looking around with the smile still on his lips, but disgust in his eyes, "Where are the fairy lights? The pillows?" He seemed genuinely curious, and Charlie frowned at him,

"Is this really the biggest problem we have right now?" She asked, and he shrugged. She continued, "We can hide out here for the next half hour, then head back to Pine Hill once the kids start leaving school."

The Doctor nodded as she spoke. "Sounds like a plan, which is rare, I don't usually have those." He chuckled to himself.

"Great, it's always good to have one of them when you're being chased by what I assume are aliens." Charlie mumbled, "So, what exactly are these shadow people doing here? What do they want with me?"

"Ah," The Doctor's smile faltered finally, "I'll explain later." He shifted uncomfortably under Charlie's gaze, "Or maybe, now?" He added, and Charlie nodded.

"Well," He started wringing his hands together again, and looked up at Charlie uncomfortably, "Are you sure this can't wait until later?"

"No."

"Okay then," The Doctor sighed, "They're trying to arrest you," he said simply. Charlie raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Arrest me? What for?"

"Oh," The Doctor waved a hand dismissively, "A lot of things."

Charlie was confused; what would some weird space police want with her? The only crimes she had committed were the type of things that everyone did – underage drinking, minor drug use, that kind of thing. She didn't want to press the matter, for fear of making things worse, so she just sat down on a tree stump, leaning her chin on her fist, looking up at The Doctor, who still looked mildly uncomfortable.

"You're not an inspector, are you?"

"You're just getting that _now_?"

Charlie quirked an eyebrow, "That's fair," she said, "Who _are_ you, then?"

The Doctor stood up a little straighter, a small smile playing on his lips, "I'm the Doctor," He said grandly. Charlie blinked, and he seemed to realise that she needed slightly more information than that. "I'm a traveller," He explained, "Sometimes I help people out who are in a bit of a pickle – like you."

Charlie nodded, "So how did you convince the staff to let you into Pine Hill? And the school, for that matter." She narrowed her eyes at him, still not completely sure that he was trustworthy. He held up a finger and delved his other hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling it out a few moments later to reveal a small piece of paper, handing it to Charlie with a smug smile.

She turned it over several times in her hands, her brow furrowed. "This is blank," she said, looking up at the Doctor. A smile played on his lips,

"Of course," He said quietly, leaning forward and taking it back. "Never mind," He said, brighter, "I'll explain later."

Charlie sat up straight, dropping her hands and shoving them inside her pockets, tilting her head to the side, "Why do you keep saying that?" She asked, "That you'll 'explain things later'?"

"Just," The Doctor paused, holding up a hand, "Wait, please."

Charlie nodded, not happy with the decision, but willing to accept it until later. She knew better than to argue with adults. They sat there, behind the bushes, hiding for the next half hour, the Doctor passing the time by asking Charlie mundane questions about her life and seeming delighted with every answer. He seemed overly familiar with her – as if he had known her a long time ago and was eager to catch up on her life – he had done since he showed up at Pine Hill, asking her about her foster families and her stay at the home.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said, finally, "But do you know me from somewhere?"

The Doctor looked affronted, almost embarrassed, at her sudden outburst, and stared at her for a second before he spoke. "Uh, I don't know what you mean," He said, shifting uncomfortably again. Charlie shook her head.

"Sorry, of course not," She apologised, suddenly feeling stupid, "You just… seem familiar, and I thought you seemed familiar with me too. I don't know who my family are – I was a foundling – they could be anyone, I guess, even skinny white guys like you."

The Doctor laughed, which only added to Charlie's feelings of stupidity, "I suppose any old person could be your uncle," He stopped laughing, and looked out into the middle distance for a moment, "Now there's a thought."

Charlie frowned at him, "What?"

"You're right," He said suddenly, "I do know you!"

"I'm sorry, I'm lost," Charlie admitted, "So you're saying you _do_ know me now?"

"Yep," The Doctor smiled, "That's why I came by in the first place, I'm here to adopt you."

Charlie stared at him blankly for a moment, unsure she heard him right, "What?" She asked.

"I'm your uncle, I'm here to take you back to your family." He said, as if that had been his story from the beginning.

"I thought you were an inspector for the council."

"Yes, I'm that too." He frowned, "No, wait, we already established that was a lie, didn't we?"

Charlie groaned, looking down at her feet for a moment. The pounding in her head was so intense now it was getting hard to concentrate. The Doctor was clearly mad, yet he seemed to be the only person who knew what on earth was going on with the aliens, so she couldn't exactly run away from him. She had to get to the bottom of all of this, so she shook her head, and looked back up.

"Come on, we can probably get home now without being yelled at."

The Doctor nodded, following Charlie as she led the way out of the bushes and back into the park, joining the children who were meandering down the path on their way out and onto the main road. It took them ten minutes to get back to Pine Hill, and Charlie was glad that the Doctor stayed quiet for the walk. His presence was making her head hurt enough, she didn't need him talking as well. Once inside, Charlie told the Doctor to stay by the door while she went to check whether the coast was clear to get up to her room, and left him downstairs while she darted to the top floor. She bumped into no one – their timing had been lucky, none of the younger kids had seemed to have gotten home yet, so she headed back down the stairs and through to the entrance, but the Doctor had gone.

"Charlie!" Sarah, the manager of the care home, emerged from the office to the right of the front door, beaming at her "You got home just in time, come in, I've got news!"

Charlie followed the care worker back into her office, where she was unsurprised to see the Doctor sat in a chair opposite Sarah's desk, the blank piece of paper out on the desk in front of him and a grin on his face.

"This is Doctor Smith," Sarah said, indicating to the Doctor, who gave a little wave as if he and Charlie hadn't just been sat inside a bush together for the last half hour.

"I know," Charlie said flatly, "He was here a few days ago."

"Well," Sarah raised her eyebrows, seemingly a little surprised at that, "You're already acquainted then! That certainly saves me a little time."

Charlie eyed the paper on the desk suspiciously. It was still blank, yet when Sarah handed it to her she insisted that it was Charlie's birth certificate. Over the course of the hour-long meeting that ensued, the paper was passed around a further five times, each time supposedly a different legal document, all stating the same thing – that this crazy Doctor was her uncle, and that he was here to adopt her.

Charlie would have seemed a lot more enthusiastic, had she been able to read any of these documents.

"Sorry," Charlie said, stopping Sarah mid-way through a sentence, "I'm just a little," She paused, trying to choose a word that was appropriate for the situation they were in, "Overwhelmed. Can I be excused for a few minutes?"

Sarah dismissed her, and the Doctor watched Charlie with a puzzled expression as she hurried out of the room and up the stairs to the top floor, heading not for her own room but the bathroom, and arriving just in time. She collapsed on the floor in front of the toilet and vomited, the feeling of nausea from the past five days clearly catching up to her. She managed to hold her hair out of her face in time, holding it up behind her as she coughed into the toilet bowl, her head swimming, her thoughts not even coherent anymore.

There was no way this could be legal. The documents the Doctor was using weren't even _real_. Adoption didn't happen in a _day_. There was something weird going on.

She flushed the toilet and dragged herself off the floor, moving over to the sink and splashing her face with cold water, then picking up her toothbrush and brushing her teeth. Her reflection still didn't look right. She groaned – she still felt queasy.

Charlie went back across the hallway to her bedroom, kicking off her shoes and throwing her blazer down on the ground, then sitting on the edge of her mattress, her head in her hands, elbows on her knees. Her phone buzzed, and she looked up at her bedside table, but her eyes didn't focus on the mobile, but instead on the fob watch that lay next to it.

She had been told that it had belonged to her family, and the Doctor and seemed insistent that she opened it when he had seen it. Maybe he did know something about it, but did that mean he was actually related to her? Her headache throbbed, but she ignored it, reaching out and holding the watch in her hand, the metal cool against her skin. The engraving on its face still made no sense – written in some language she couldn't read – and everything in her head was screaming at her not to open it. She didn't understand why, but she felt that it was dangerous. Just like she had with the blue box.

"Have you worked it out yet?"

There was a voice at the door, and Charlie's head snapped up to look at who it belonged to, her hand moving almost involuntarily behind her back, holding the watch out of sight. The Doctor stood there, in the doorway, watching her, regarding her with a strange look in his eye.

"Worked what out?" She asked. He smiled at her.

"You know what."

Charlie brought the watch back from behind her back, holding it in two hands down in her lap, staring at it intensely.

"I can't read it," She looked up at him, "The words, I mean." She held the watch out to him, "Do you know what they say?

The Doctor didn't move closer or make any attempt to take the watch from Charlie, just tilted his head slightly, "How do you know they're words?" He asked, and Charlie frowned.

"What do you mean, of course they're words, they're –" But she stopped, looking down at the watch in her fingers and frowning. The engraving was a pattern – circles and dots – not words, so why had she thought that it was another language all this time? She looked back up at the Doctor,

"I said I'd explain later," He said, "And I will if you open that thing." He took a step into the room, but Charlie shook her head,

"No," She said, "I don't trust this, I – I shouldn't, it's broken."

"How do you know?" The Doctor asked, "When was the last time you checked?"

Charlie closed her eyes, feeling sick again, "I – I don't know, it's always been broken – it's always been stuck."

"You've never checked – that thing has a perception filter, it makes you _think_ that it's broken so you won't open it accidentally." The Doctor took another step towards Charlie, tentatively. She was still shaking her head,

"I'm – I'm not supposed to."

The Doctor laughed, "Well, that never stopped you from doing anything before." he knelt down in front of her, so the two of them were at eye level, and spoke more softly, "But that doesn't matter now, what matters is that you _have_ to open it. Please."

Charlie's head was screaming, the pain so bad she felt like her entire head could explode. She stared at the watch in her fingers, and every part of her was telling her to throw it away and never look at it again. She looked up at the Doctor,

"Who are you, _really_?" She asked, her voice almost a whisper, shaking, her fingers gripping the watch so tightly they were white. The Doctor shifted, and when he spoke there was truth in his eyes,

"An old friend."

Charlie nodded, not taking her eyes from the Doctor's, not wanting to look down at the object in her hands again, feeling sick for even considering opening it.

"So what happens," She asked, "when I open it, I mean. What happens then?"

The Doctor looked down for a moment, as if he was considering the question. Charlie closed her eyes, trying to calm the screaming in her mind.

"You'll understand," The Doctor said simply, meeting her eyes once more. Charlie swallowed hard, looking down at her shaking hands again, defying all of her instincts and loosening her grip just enough that she could reposition the watch in her fingers, so that her thumb now rested on the button which would open it.

"Doctor, what's happening to me?" She asked. She felt like he understood – he was the only person who understood in the universe. She felt like she knew him – like she had known him her entire life. There were tears on her face now, though she hadn't realised she was crying.

The Doctor frowned for a few moments before speaking carefully, "You're becoming you again."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Charlie yelled, "What's happening to me?"

"You always were stubborn, weren't you?" The Doctor muttered. Charlie could see that he was getting angry. She had to open the watch – she _had to_ – no matter how much she didn't want to.

She pressed down her thumb and the watch clicked open – it wasn't stuck, it never had been, they had just programmed it to tell her it was. A bright yellow glow erupted out of the watch face, flowing up and out, up to Charlie's face, where she felt compelled to breathe it in, closing her eyes as it sunk into her, warming her insides, calming her mind.

Charlotte Smith had just been a story – a lie – she had never existed, and when she opened her eyes once more, Tenzinaderanian was sat in her place.


End file.
